A/N: As some of you probably know, this chapter was accidentally posted at the wrong time, in the wrong spot. I apologize for any confusiion this might've caused.

I glance at my watch. The doctor's been with Emily for nearly two hours now. The floorboards creak loudly as Gardner paces the floor. He's been doing that for the better part of an hour, and it's beginning to grate on my nerves. "Mr. Gardner, are you incapable of standing still for five minutes?!"

My tone stops him in his tracks and he stares at me. No sooner do I speak that the door opens a crack as the doctor bustles out of the room. I can see it in his eyes: it's bad.

"Miss O'Donnell's injuries were severe," he says with absolutely no emotion. "I've managed to set her arm and did the best I could for her broken ribs, but…" He removes his glasses, wiping them on his sleeve. "She may have sustained internal trauma-"

"Will she survive?" I cut him off. Annelise grabs my hand…I had forgotten all about her standing beside me. The thought crosses my mind to yank my hand out of hers, but I end up squeezing it back instead.

"Only time will tell, Mr. Hockley." His voice drops. "Though I'd be surprised if she makes it through the night." I hear Annelise quietly gasp, though that could also be because my tightening grip on her hand is hurting her.

The doctor looks me square in the eye. "What happened to this child, anyway?" There is a tinge of anger in his voice. He thinks I did this to her!

"She-" Gardner begins.

"…fell own a marble staircase," I finish for him. He and Annelise stare at me disapprovingly. So does the doctor, but he doesn't question me.

My father may be a lot of things, but he is right about something. Allowing Gardner to tell the truth about what happened could ruin us all. There would certainly be massive scandal-especially if that bastard Jameson Calvert got his hands on the story. My father might be sent to jail and without him, the company would fall apart and the money would stop coming. Then where would we be?

Suddenly Polly bursts in, gasping and breathless, her dark hair flying wildly behind her. "Mr. Hockley, your father sent me to fetch you. He requests your presence at dinner, sir."

She turns to Annelise with a reproachful glare. "And as for you-" She shakes a chastising finger at her. "You know better than to take off like that, Annelise! The Master has been calling for you all afternoon yet here you are just standing around like a worthless lie-about!" Annelise bows her head to hide the tears welling in her eyes, but Polly doesn't pay attention; she just keeps on scolding. "You could be dismissed for this…Is that what you-"

"ENOUGH!" Polly shrinks back, staring up at me in pure shock. "Go back upstairs and tell The Master that his son requires Annelise's services at the moment."

"But what about-"

"Tell him I'm busy!" I interrupt her.

"But, sir-"she starts to protest, looking at me with pleading eyes. I suddenly realize I've just sent her into the lion's den.

"Polly's right, sir," Gardner's voice pipes up. "You should dine with your father." His voice drops so that only I can hear it. "You'll just make him angrier if you don't." His eyes shift to Emily still sleeping in the other room. I understand. Unless I give him a diversion, someone else in this house is going to take the brunt of his rage. I can't let that happen.

"Don't worry. I'll look after her, sir," he tries to reassure me. "I promise I'll alert you immediately if she-" He swallows hard. "If there's any change."

My father eyes me with disdain as I walk into the dining room. "So nice of you to join us, Caledon." His voice drips with barely-veiled sarcasm, but I try to ignore it.

He holds up an empty wine glass. "Peggy! Anais! I'm waiting!"I clench my teeth; my hands ball into fists under the table. I start to correct him but stop myself just in time. He knows their names; he's just trying to get a reaction from me.

Annelise gives me a sad smile as she pours my wine. "Calm down," she whispers urgently in my ear. I take a deep breath and stare at the plate in front of me. She's right. I'm here for Emily, not him.

I'm careful not to let the hate show on my face as the meal passes. I pretend to be interested in his insipid stories, laugh at his jokes in exactly the right moments, never letting on that every minute I'm in here with him is torturing me. I force myself to meet his eyes, and I could swear I saw them soften toward me. I realize that we're no longer a son and father but two dueling facades each waiting for the other to break. "So, how is little Eliz-I mean, Emily?"

The glass I'm holding suddenly shatters in my hand. Blood drips onto the white tablecloth as my fist pounds the table, making the dishes rattle. "You know damn well!"

All eyes turn to me; Annelise's full of sadness, Polly's sparking silent reprimands, and my father's reflecting something between shock and anger. "Speak to me like that again, and I'll make you regret it," he threatens me.

"That's what you think, Nathan." He gapes at me in stunned silence. I don't think I've ever seen him speechless.

Gardner rises from his chair as I re-enter Emily's room. "My God!" he exclaims, glancing at my injured hand. "What happened to you, sir?"

"My father happened," I reply darkly.

Gardner sighs as his eyes dart apprehensively, as if just waiting for my father to come bursting through that door to exact his revenge. He jerks his head toward Emily and says, "She still hasn't woken up yet, sir." Our eyes meet as he turns to leave and I know we both must be thinking the same thing: What if she never does?

My eyes fall to a book on the nightstand as I take Gardner's seat. The gilded letters of the title: The Wizard of Oz shine brightly in the glow of the oil lamp. I pick up the book unthinkingly and open it to the page Emily's marked with a scrap of fabric. She's come pretty far on her own-why should I be surprised? She's the smartest child I've ever known. Make that the only child you've ever known, a nasty voice in the back of my mind taunts me. Knowing she won't be around to finish the story herself, I read it aloud to her. Letting her know how it ends seems the least I can do for her.

I look at Emily as my voice drones on; her left arm in a sling, her bruised eyes closed, her hair in her face, but her right arm is still wrapped around Rose. I realize for the first time just how thoroughly I've used this child. On Titanic, I used her to guarantee my own safety, and every moment since, I've used her to distract me from my sadness. I may be able to give this child anything money could possibly buy, but I can't give her the love she deserves… I can't even protect her from my father's wrath.

Emotion chokes my voice as I read on. A nagging doubt creeps into my mind. Was I wrong to bring Emily here? Maybe she would've been better off in an orphanage. She might have found a family by now…a real one, not like this mismatched gaggle of people forced to share breathing space. Maybe it would've been better if we had both died. She'd still be with her family; I'd still be with my Rose. I should've just left her on Titanic that night. At least, this never would've happened to her.

The next line says what I'm thinking exactly: Now I know I've got a heart 'cause it's breaking. A drop splashes onto the page…then another and another. I press a hand to my eyes and it comes away wet. I have no idea how long I've been crying.

I hold the book in front of my face to hide the tears as I suddenly realize there is someone standing behind me. I half-expect it to be my father, come to mock me until a small, calloused hand pulls the book from mine. Annelise…

Her arms wrap around my neck. I try to remind myself that she means nothing to me, that she's only a gutter rat, but for some reason, I can't make myself push her away. I lift my still streaming eyes to meet hers. Her wavy white-blonde hair spills into my face as she kisses my forehead.

Without a word, she gently sits at the foot of Emily's bed and pulls me into her embrace. I expect her to tell me to stop or try to convince me that everything's going to be all right, but she doesn't. She just holds me the way my mother used to, the way I always wished Rose would. A sob tears from my throat as I hug her back, even tighter than she holds me. Her chest heaves as I bury my face in her dress and I know she must be crying, too. It suddenly occurs to me that I'm the cause of her tears. She must have really grown to love Emily, and now we're both going to lose her…all because of me.

"Oh, Cal." Her voice is choked as she caresses my tearstained cheek. She's never used my first name before, but I don't have the heart to correct her. "Don't cry." It isn't a command, more like a plea, as if this display is breaking her tender heart.

I'm finally able to force back the sobs, but the tears are still falling from my eyes, dampening the front of her dress. I don't think she notices; she's still stroking my hair and kissing me, still allowing me to weep silently in her arms.

My heavy, burning eyes open. The lamp has burned out, and Annelise is gone. It must be morning. I hear the sound of Emily's wheezy breathing. She didn't die in the night…maybe there's still hope for her. I stop myself. Hope can be paralyzing; I know that firsthand.

A rat squeaks in the darkness. It scurries away frightened, and I suddenly realize that as long as Nathan Hockley is alive, Emily's life is in danger. I turn away reluctantly; there's only one thing I can do for her now.